Chapter Text
Clowns, Cameras, Conspiracy, and a Kid
‘Damn that useless old husk… damn Bifu… damn them both!’
If Geiru had been wearing her stupid, wobbly, two-inch heels, then there's no doubt she would've snapped the points off with how heavy she marched through the Kurukuru Tei’s halls. Instead, her socks bore the brunt of her rage, carrying a pink cloud of rage and its duffel bag of mats and balloons through the school's narrow halls.
It started as, became, and should’ve stayed, yet another day of wasted time. Of twisting balloon animals for snot-nosed four-year-olds and their bored parents, telling jokes that fell flat, and getting stupid looks whenever she tried telling a decent story.
She’d barely returned to the dojo from her ‘valuable learning opportunity' when Shisho called her and Bifu into his studio. After months and years of judgement, he’d made a decision. He’d finally decided which of them would become the second Uendo Toneido, to carry the pride of the Toneido name towards the next generation!
She’d sat tall, sat proud, her determined gaze meeting his as he declared to them that…
…it was Bifu.
Bifu.
Bifu.
Bifu.
BIFU.
After years of training, after years, of longing. Of tears from training herself to satisfy the expectations of that shriveled, rotten, failing husk of a rakugo performer, whose standards happened to surpass the stars in how high they were. That despite those ridiculous expectations, despite his distracting her with nonsensical and useless clown training, she tried. She told herself, that all she had to do, was try, to somehow satisfy him, to be even half the rakugo performer her father was, to even reach a sliver of the potential that the original Uendo Toneido, that her father, once was.
And how did he repay her?
Endless afternoons spent laughing at herself, tying ugly balloon horses and crowns, becoming the center of jokes and jeers for kids too dumb and young to even think. And all the while, her teacher, her “teacher”, wasted his time on teaching BIFU how to use his system for rakugo. Pushed to the sidelines, like she was an old, dusty doll, thrown aside by an owner that preferred playing with something new and shiny.
After all - what’s the point in training someone to PRETEND to be other people, when you have someone BORN with extra people in their head?
At the very least, what little training Taifu gave her was enough for a poker face.
Against the roaring blood in her ears, Geiru had cheered for her “buddy” and “fellow star in Rakugo,” congratulating him on such an… Incredible. Achievement.
Then, she excused herself. Leaving Bifu, his system, and her “master,” to talk. Chat. Brag. Plan out Bifu’s future as Uendo Toneido II.
His. Future.
Not hers.
His.
She stood up.
She stepped into the hall.
She shut the sliding fusuma door behind her.
And the moment Taifu’s studio left her sight, Geiru dropped her mask. A cheap smile that dissolved into a burning scowl and fists tight enough to turn white, and a march that carried her rage through the halls, and far, far away from the biggest insult to her existence.
Her life. Her friends. Her hobbies, her interests, her very existence. All dedicated towards becoming the next Uendo Toneido - only to be reminded that she never had a chance.
What.
Utter.
Goddamned.
“BULLSHI-!” *THUD*
Geiru recoiled, pained and hissing through her teeth as she cradled a suddenly aching, throbbing wrist. Her boiling rage was redirected, murderous eyes looking up at her pain’s source.
Her goddamned sliding door. She must’ve made it back to her room without noticing, swung her arm out in anger - smacked it against the frame. Not broken - but it might as well be from how much it hurt.
Stupid. Reckless. A truly impulsive fool. This is exactly why Bifu was picked over you.
Snarling at her inner Taifu, she used her one good hand to grab the sliding fusuma door, ready for her emotional (and physical) pain to propel her directly into her futon, and fall asleep crying and screaming.
Geiru dragged the fusuma open, ready to groan and curse her fate and-
…this wasn’t her room.
Her bed had too many pillows. Her costume stand had transformed into a small bookshelf. Stuffed with what she knew to be history textbooks, self-help books, assorted manga, and a single tea set on top of the packed case.
And the table she’d been “generously” given to practice Rakugo in her free time, was cleared of torn balloons and sewing needles. Cleared of everything, really. It was empty. Blank.
Slowly, the reality of the room seeped into the cracks of Geiru’s rage, until years of walking that same path through the halls enlightened her - she knew exactly where she was. She recognized it - enough time spent doing joint practice and review sessions with them would’ve reminded her if the path she took didn’t.
‘Tch. This is Bifu’s room.’
That realization kept the pain from pulling her anger down to Earth. Instead, it just made her grit her teeth, fury smoldering into something blackened and burnt, body tensing at the realization she was in their room.
It felt like every inch of the room screamed “successor material.” The absence of any spare clothes strewn about, or books relating to anything other than Rakugo. The bed folded, the pillows tucked inside, the tea set flawlessly displayed, ready for use or decor.
It looked like a room dedicated to someone who lived, breathed, and would die dedicating their life to Rakugo.
At some point, she’d found herself traipsing inside, each step around the room tightening the vice of frustration around her heart, looking around at the room of the bastard who, according to Taifu, was better than her in every way.
Each piece of decor told the story of who lived here, of who Taifu had picked as the next Uendo Toneido. Hell, even what wasn’t there gave off that impression.
Bed. Closet. Table. Tea set. Bookshelf. Books.
No make-up kits strewn around, no clothes stuffed in the corner, no shredded pieces of balloon animals or earplugs discarded between floor tiles. Whoever lived in this room was someone Shisho looked at with pride. Not frustration. But hope. Dreams. Dreams of molding someone into Rakugo personified.
…and he succeeded.
All he had to do with throw away anyone who he couldn’t shape into the perfect student.
*thump*
Her foot stopped, bumping against the table in the center of the room. Her body on autopilot, Geiru hadn't noticed her position. Standing behind the room’s low Rakugo table, now facing the open door to the hall outside.
She glared at the low-laying wood square, as if it were the one responsible for her pain.
“...what a waste.”
The words felt numb, strangling her throat as they scraped over her tongue. But what else could it be called? To spend your days dedicated to a dumb performance art that you'd loved all your life, only to find the way forward blocked by a shitty slab of clay with open favoritism? To sacrifice your future, your friends, your youth, all so a wrinkled old nugget can slap you upside the head, tell you to smile more, while a chuckling three-headed clown tells you to take another wasted summer birthday party in stride?
*THUNK*
The ball of her foot found purchase on the edge of the table, shoving it back a foot or two from where it rested.
It was a small action, and it wasn’t Bifu or Shisho’s dumb faces planted beneath her foot. But just that small act of something, kicking something aside and putting her body to do, something?
God, it felt cathartic.
She felt the rising fury in her heart begin to cool from her small moment of catharsis. But that smoldering resentment for her “teacher” and “fellow disciple” remained. As much as she wanted to throttle either of them, that one, tiny whisper of restraint in the back of her head kept a lid on Geiru’s fury.
She wasn’t a master criminal. The moment she did anything to hurt Taifu or Bifu, she’d get caught. Found out. Kicked out from the school with a blacklist from any theaters or halls up-and-down the west coast. The price to pay for messing with Taifu, or his precious prized pupil.
At the very least, messing with Bifu’s perfect room gave her some catharsis. She doubted it would be enough for her, but-
…there was something beneath the table.
She couldn't see it before, tucked underneath the table, just out of sight. But with the table askew, Geiru could see something peeking out from underneath. Not enough to make heads or tails of it, but enough to pique her interest.
What else did the great Uendo Toneido II have that made them such an excellent student - a golden star of rakugo that would make all the world’s watchers laugh and cry unrelenting?
‘Even if it’s nothing, messing with his stuff a little more wouldn’t hurt.’
Crouching down to pull it out, Geiru held a light, wide and thick plastic box, transparent enough to view the maybe-dozen collection of… stuff, packed tightly inside. Whatever this was, she could hold it in her arms, and the stuff at the ends of this see-through rectangle had spots and stars and a cute lion decorated on their fronts.
Turning over the package in her hands, Geiru could only get one more detail from it. A poster card, sealed inside, decorated with small, cartoon lions, dancing on a background of stars beneath a label,
‘Little Kings’
“The hell is this…?”
It stood out from the rest of the room like a parrot in a courtroom. Between everything else in the room, it stuck out like a sore thumb. And tucked just underneath the table too? Clearly Bifu didn't care too much to keep it hidden very well, but what *was* it?
“Screw it. Time for Zing.”
With furrowed brows, she plucked out her phone - a shoddy, chipped flip phone with just enough of a cell plan that she could still get calls and make purchases online every few weeks - and Zinged.
“Beer? No, that's not it.”
So, she scrolled through Zing’s search results for a few second more, until-
She blinked. Rapidly. Geiru rapidly blinked her widening eyes as she pulled the phone close to her face, disbelief covering her face.
…no way. No way.
If she had a million years to guess, she'd never once guess this. A bright and colorful webpage was tied to the picture of her mystery item - fully and unambiguously describing them, as diapers. Big enough for someone her size. And these weren't for bladder problems. Nothing so medical or bland would have designs like these.
Bifu had a pack of baby-themed, him-sized, adult diapers hidden in their room.
“Oi. What the hell are you doing in here.”
Geiru’s eyes snapped up, package forgotten at her knees, her anger spiking a return behind a practiced smile at the sight of a familiar face standing in the doorway. One hand on their hip, and the other holding a folded fan to their mouth, like a child pretending to smoke.
“Oh my gosh, Kisegawa!” She waved at her classmate’s courtesan alter, shutting her phone and leaving it on her lap, “It’s so wonderful to see you - have you heard the news about Bifu?”
“Yeah, I did. We were there. Don’t change the subject,” they sternly aimed the shut fan at Geiru, brow furrowed over an accusatory tone. “What. The hell. Are you doing in here?”
Fortunately, Geiru had a few extra seconds to think up a decent story. A dumb smile replaced Kisegawa’s frustrated grimace, as that same fan opened to flap some cutesy paper dolls mid-air.
“Oh, oh, I know! You were planning to give Uendo another congratulations in private, weren’t you?”
Any tension that Kisegawa might’ve been building was quickly cut with Patches’ painfully sincere goofiness. “Gosh, you’re so sweet! Hey, maybe you should start serving cotton candy at your next party! That’ll really earn you some cheers!”
‘I think I’d sooner choke on that crap than try something that ridiculous.’
“Aww, thanks Patches!” She tilted her head with a smile at the alter’s sickly sweet words, hands drumming on the plastic by her lap. “You got me! I was going for a stroll, thinking about how we might celebrate, when I stumbled into your room, and found this~!”
She pulled the package onto the table - and Patches’ fan flapped wide open, their eyes bugged-out wide from behind.
“Th-that’s-!”
“None, of your, business.” Kisegawa interrupted her host through grit teeth, stomping in to lean forward and jab their fan at Geiru’s face. “You’re gonna forget what you saw, get out, and never talk about this again. Got it?”
“N-n-now hold on, Kisegawa,” the comedic identity swapped back, pleading to themself. “Didn’t Bifu wanna-”
“Not like this! Like hell he’d want to-!”
Their stern look switched between panicked, pleading, thoughtful, all within a few moments - as if the rakugo star was having an internal argument right in front of her. A ridiculous whirlwind of emotion on display, that even Geiru struggled to track.
Thankfully though, their silent, pantomimed debate soon came to an end - and a third, calmer, apologetic expression broke through.
‘Ah. And here’s the man of the hour.’
“My apologies, Geiru. Although you surprised us, Kisegawa shouldn’t have snapped at you like that,” he spoke, kneeling to match Geiru’s posture, bowing in his seat across from her. “I hope you can forgive them.”
“Aww, Bifu, it’s fine~” She reassured, waving her hand at his downcast expression.
“You shouldn’t have to apologize, it’s been a big day for you three! Although…” She pat the package, noting Bifu’s near-invisible wince.
“Patches said you had something to tell me?”
He squirmed. Sweat in his seat as he drank air from that cup he always had up his sleeve. Geiru smiled inside at the sight of him so restless and unsettled. On any other day, she’d feel bad for embarrassing him like this. Like when you step on your pet's foot and they yelp.
But right now? It was like smacking your sibling after they broke something of yours.
It felt right.
So she waited.
And waited.
Aaaaaand waited.
And was about to dig a hole into her socks with her nails when Bifu finally spoke up.
“There’s been… a lot of times, during training, where Shisho’s expectations, rattled us. We'd flub something during practice, or fail to make a joke turn with the right audience, or…”
He trailed off, coughing into that empty cup again, before returning their gaze to the edge of the table.
“It was exhausting. I'd tried meditation, going for walks, or talking to you or Shisho about my concerns. However, there were still times where I didn’t feel like I’d recovered. Rested. Times where no matter how long I slept or talked through my stresses, they would just come back.”
“Shisho would just tell me I needed to stop thinking about Rakugo while I rested - but, well…”
An apologetic expression crossed his face, as their hair skewed to match Patches’ return.
“That's kinda like asking a fish not to sleep in water, Y'know?”
Geiru groaned, “yeah, I know.”
And unfortunately, she did know. What few pleasure purchases she could make helped stave off her own exhaustion when working with Shisho. Hell, she even looked forward to whatever sweets she could nab at each party she performed at - one of the few things she actually looked forward to each time she went out.
“Sometimes, it’d get so bad we’d conk right out after a performance! We’d sleep straight from one performance’s end, allll the way to the next day’s lunch. Talk about a rough recovery!”
And his eyes narrowed, Bifu’s body leaning the other way as Kisegawa glared at Geiru, a fan to her lips in front of eyes with extra scrutiny at the clown’s direction.
“So, we looked around. Tried whatever we could to unwind with what resources we had. Books, community events. Hell, we even tried making soba with that dork Bucky Whet. You know how that went.”
Isolating themselves from her for a full day, just to make absolutely sure they wouldn't kill her with a handshake? Yeah, she remembered.
“Just gave us more stress in the end,” the alter lamented, blowing out fake smoke with a sigh.
“So, we kept looking for some way to unwind. Something that would actually help us. So, after a while, one thing led to another, and we ended up with… this.”
The alter flicked the shut fan towards Geiru, pointing it at the package on the table - before pulling it away and sitting upright, as Bifu surfaced once again.
“It’s part of something called ‘ageplay.’ People pretend that they’re younger than they actually are - typically anywhere between a few months or a few years old. Some of them use or wet- I-I mean-!”
He stumbled, taking another sip from that empty teacup before starting again.
“Some people do that! Some people use diapers for, *that* kind of… physical relief. But there are many who use them as a type of ‘regressive meditation’. Who use them to fall into a sort of ‘regressive haze,’ that helps them recover when any other activity would fail to do the same.”
“What Patches was trying to mention…”
He took a deep, deep sip of air, hiding part of his expression behind an empty cup.
“Some people have found, that in order to properly recover from their stresses, they find themselves working with a ‘caregiver.’ Someone they trust, who could feed them, play with them. Someone who could make sure there’s nothing for them to worry about while they felt… ‘little.’”
“Although we’ve been able to play and enjoy this on our own, I fear that the expectations of becoming Uendo Toneido II may impact my ability to engage in my ageplay. And so, after some deliberation… I wanted to make a request.”
He faced her fully. Teacup and fan set aside, his eyebrows furrowed as he glared her in the eyes. No - he was forcing himself to look at her. Their shoulders hunched, his body tense - as he bowed to her.
“Geiru, you are the only one I can trust to make this request. Would you please act as my caregiver?”
…there wasn’t a sound that Geiru could hear in that room, other than the blood rushing through her head. With Bifu’s head bowed, he couldn’t see Geiru’s expression, as she slowly processed his request. What he was asking of her. When it clicked, her eyes widened, her jaw dropped, and a dozen different emotions crossed her face at once. Surprise at the insane idea he just proposed. Insult and rage at the notion that he’d want her to be a volunteer babysitter for him. She was just about to strangle him right then and there.
And then she got an idea. An awful idea. Geiru Toneido, had a wonderful, awful idea.
Her face twisted into a wide, incredulous smile, sparing a look at the phone by her knees.
“Aww, Bifu!” She leaned forward over the table, piling on the sweetness as much as she could with a flimsy hug, “It’s so adorable that you’ve got this little secret side~! Of course I’ll help you!”
And his head rose with surprise, a stupidly hopeful look to his face.
“You… you mean it?”
“Of course, of course! After all, what are friends for?”
She didn’t give him a chance to reply before continuing, “So! What's first? How do we do this?”
He was distracted, face flustered, a nervous smile on his features.
“Ah, you mean now? Well, first would be the… ‘ahem’ diaper change.”
He cut her off before her blood pressure could spike again.
“Y-you don't have to change me! I would dare ask that of you. I just… need to put the diaper on myself. After that, you'd watch over me until I… well, ‘woke up.’”
She sighed, waving her hand, “Alrighty~ I’ll sit tight while you get things ready, okay?”
She handed the package of diapers off to Bifu, letting him slowly stand on his own and go off to the corner of the room to do… whatever.
In the meantime, Geiru turned her attention to the phone by her knees, eyes drinking in each alit pixel on it’s screen, before it turned dark from unuse.
Geiru wasn’t dumb. She knew Taifu saw her as lesser. If she somehow managed to force Bifu to step down, nominate her as the rightful holder of Uendo Toneido II? Taifu’d reject it. He wouldn’t dream of letting his prize pupil be replaced by sloppy seconds.
But… what if she was better? Her skills in rakugo could be improved, she knew that. Given time, given proper training - maybe even from the man and his alters - she could even get as good as Bifu was now.
And then, maybe in a year, maybe in a few months. It’d come out.
That Bifu Toneido. Uendo Toneido II, the prodigy of the Toneido school of rakugo, wasn’t just a mentally ill performer who used his alters to improve his performances.
But that the pressures of his title were so severe, he took to playing pretend, wearing diapers like a weird, creepy man-child.
Forget a bad reputation. The Toneido school would become a laughingstock. Taifu’d have to expel Bifu to save face, keep the school from falling apart.
By then, Geiru’s skills would no doubt finally satisfy that crotchety old man. And when it came time to choose a proper, mature, naturally skilled successor?
She’d be the only reasonable choice. To not only surpass the black sheep of the Toneido school, but to prove that Taifu Toneido didn’t know what he was doing. That she, the diamond in the rough, had been left to languish while he polished a rotten, golden statue. She’d be the true Uendo Toneido II. She’d be the next Taifu Toneido.
She would become the next, proper, true head of the Toneido school of rakugo.
“Alright… ready…”
With a perfect smile - fueled by the excitement of her newfound plan for revenge - Geiru slipped her phone back beneath the table and out of Bifu’s sight - and beheld him.
Lying on his back, robe partially undone, his face burning and turned away from her. And a dumb, kid lion’s face stamped onto a diaper across his waist.
‘At least they won't ask me to change them into these things.’
“Aww, look at you! You really do look like a baby~”
“Geiru…” he stupidly whined from behind sleeve-covered hands. Like he wasn’t expecting her to have a little fun with them.
“Sorry, sorry,” she snickered, not sorry at all. “You just look like such a big dope!”
She crawled over, flicking his nose through the hanging sleeves, prompting an “eek!” and another giggle from the rakugo clown.
“That’s… not fair…”
Awww, he was getting all blushy and shy~ Guess that meant he was starting to ‘regressively meditate.’
“So! Now that you’re padded up, what’s next?”
“Um… well… I’m kinda…”
His sleeve dropped like a floppy stone, revealing half-lidded eyes and a blushing, droopy face. A face he rubbed at with his other sleeve as his words grew heavier.
“...ready, for it… but, first…”
He started wobbling, rocking in his seat. Was he…?
“I uhh… need a… huuuh… a nnnap.”
*Thump!*
“...Bifu?”
Into a heap, he feel back on the floor. A brief pang of worry toned Geiru’s confusion - though the slow, gentle rise and fall of his chest eased it almost as quick as it appeared.
“Huh… you’re joking.”
That was it? His ‘regressing meditation’ was just sleeping in a diaper?
‘Tch, what a disappointment.’
And after he’d hyped it up all nervous and worried, it was just him taking a nap in a diaper? She’d expected something… ‘bigger.’ But watching over a sleeping Bifu for an hour or two?
Ughhhhh. She was already feeling the boredom and regret starting to sit in.
Then again - he was out cold, wasn’t he?
Curled into a ball on the floor, diaper displayed to the world like a newborn baby.
Geiru was surprised they could conk out that quickly. Maybe he really did need this.
Guess that means it’s already started? Napping like a baby. No cares, no concerns. No awareness…
…no idea of what might be happening around them.
…that makes this next part easier.
Geiru grabbed her phone from the floor, gingerly crawling around the table to retrieve it, until she was right back by his feet. She flipped it open, guided her phone’s camera to open-
‘Click!’
And in a few seconds, a memory of Bifu’s secret was stored on her phone.
She was left staring at the photo, “clearly” rendered in her phone. Evidence. Actual evidence, of Bifu swaddled in a diaper, playing the baby. A hideous, wide-eyed grin climbed up the sides of her face.
If she wanted, she could send it off to other schools then and there. Ruin the school’s reputation, humiliate him. Turn his stellar future into garbage underneath her fingers.
He and Shisho- no, he and Taifu. They both deserved it. After years of being picked over. Years of being humiliated, treated as lesser than Bifu?
Things were finally looking up.
“...nnng…”
“Mm?”
Bifu was moaning. Starting to shift and get back up.
Oop.
Geiru quickly shut her phone, lightly tossing it under the table, over by her bag and out of sight. She sat upright, playing the role of an innocent “caregiver”, as “her baby” began to wake up, raising themself from the floor with one sleeve over their face.
“Good morning Bifu~” She sang sickly sweet to her ‘tyke in-need’. “Had a nice nap?”
“!”
He froze at her words, face hidden behind his sleeve. What, did he already forget she was here?
“Awwww, don’t be shy,” she cooed. “It’s me, Geiru!”
“...”
“.........”
“...M-Ms. Gale?”
‘Wait. That voice… is it?’
He peeked from behind that baggy sleeve, allowing Geiru to see Bifu’s expression. Tired, uncertain eyes, and a childlike pout, all beneath flattened bangs and a curl of hair by theircheek. This was…!
“Owen?”
‘Owen: the fourth alter sharing a body with Bifu, Patches, and Kisegawa. He only ever appears when the others are knocked out - not just asleep, but passed out. Why was he out?’
At the sound of her voice, Owen’s eyes raised to meet hers - and a shy grin fit over those small, tired eyes.
“H-hi, Ms. Gale,” he waved with he spare, floppy sleeve, “Can… Can I give you a greeting hug?”
“O-of course, sure!”
Agreeing purely out of instinct, Geiru opened her arms enough for Owen to crawl over, and give her a small hug.
Meanwhile, under the hood, confusion roiled under Geiru’s frustrated mind, stumbling into the furious mental wall that is,
‘Why is Owen out??’
It’d be harder for her to take any photos of Bifu if Owen was active and awake. She’d have fewer chances to take any photos with him up and awake. And if he saw her take any, then…
Then…
…oh.
This… this might actually work much, much better.
“Say, Owen!”
He pulled away from Geiru’s hug, looking up at her, “hmm?”-ing.
“Why don’t we spend some time doing some playtime?”
His eyes lit up, Owen’s smile growing ever-so-slightly wider.
“Mmm… I’d, like that a lot, Ms. Gale…”
“Hehehe, okay… wait!” She raised a hand towards him, shutting her eyes and humming.
“My magical clown powers tell me… that youuuu…”
He sat there in awe, in wonder of Geiru’s newly-discovered and self-proclaimed magical clown powers!
“...have, toys! New toys, that you like to play with…. Hidden! Somewhere! Here!”
Each exclamation was met with a flourish of her hands, ending with her pointing towards the young alter.
“Am I right?”
“W-woahhh…” His eyes glittered in awe of her magical perception abilities. “Th-that’s true! I got lots of toys, and they’re all in the closet! Can I bring some out?”
“That sounds like a great idea!” She clapped, “Why don’t you get some of those toys out, and we can spend a little bit of time going through, picking out your favorites, before going beddy-bye. That sound fun?”
“Th-that sounds like so much fun! I-I’ll get them out, now!”
He crawled away, sleeved hands grabbing at the closet door, as Geiru sat there patiently.
With the widest grin on her face.
Geiru reached under the table, bending down to stretch her arm and head under to the other side.
Owen pulled the closet fusuma open, bending over to stretch his arms and head under the hanging robes.
Geiru flipped her phone open, centering the camera on the oblivious five-year-old alter.
Owen opened a box he’d pulled from the back of the closet, digging into it while the back of his robe raised up.
Geiru pressed her thumb to the plastic keys of her phone.
Click!